


Interlude I: Introductory Session

by Butterfly



Series: Scenes from a Resurrection Story [11]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Background Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: Dr. Roxann Milner meets with a new patient.





	Interlude I: Introductory Session

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for: mentions of depression, an anxiety attack.

Roxann settled her notes from her previous client into the appropriate folder and did a quick tut to lock the cabinet. Grace, without a doubt the best receptionist in the world, had sent her a quick text a minute ago, letting her know that Eliot Waugh had arrived with the Coldwater boy that he'd arranged this session for, and she was very much looking forward to meeting him. Roxann had talked to a lot of people over the years for a variety of concerns, but never with anyone who was, well, post-resurrection.

She evaluated her space, making sure everything was in its place. Chairs near the desk, if he seemed like he needed a more clinical approach; the armchair and couch in the corner, if he wanted to relax a bit or was a traditionalist; the artistic supplies she'd started having patients use a few years ago, when she'd gotten more younger ones who were better at visual expression than verbal. She straightened a cushion on the couch, then headed to her door, glancing over the waiting room with a smile.

Eliot Waugh, of course, immediately drew the eye, as he meant to do – he wasn't wearing those elegant widower's blacks this time, but instead had on a richly-detailed, warmly-colored outfit with a well-fitted vest. He was talking to the young man sitting next to him, taking up enough of the air in the room that Roxann felt she had a little time to study him properly.

Quentin Coldwater did _not_ mean to draw attention. He was dressed in darker neutrals, the cuffs of his shirt pulled down over his fingers. He wasn't sitting up straight in the chair, or even lounging the way his friend was – he'd pulled up one of his legs onto the seat and wrapped his arms around it, his other foot occasionally tapping and she got the impression he wanted to do more but was trying to control himself. His hair was soft around his face and he would duck his head down from time to time, making the bangs hide his eyes. He was, she felt, very aware of her presence, even though he hadn't looked in her direction yet.

“Mr. Waugh, it's good to see you again,” Roxann said, exiting her room and extending a hand. He rose to his feet and shook her hand with studied casualness. She turned her attention to- “And you must be Quentin Coldwater. It's a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers, briefly, and he did not offer his hand, so she kept her own to herself. “I'm Doctor Roxann Milner. You can call me Doctor Milner, Roxann... whatever makes you comfortable.”

Mr. Coldwater's mouth twitched a little, and he looked over at Mr. Waugh, who immediately asked, “Do you want me to wait here or outside, Q?” There was a war on Mr. Coldwater's face at that question, fierce battalions fighting for dominance.

“Stay. Stay here,” Mr. Coldwater said, in a resigned sort of way. “Please.”

He flicked another look in her direction and then leveraged himself to his feet. She smiled again but in a professional way, not letting it be too warm or personal. He didn't seem like he would have much patience with too much warmth too soon.

Once they were inside her room, he climbed into – there was really no other way of describing it – climbed into one of her office chairs, but he was sitting up straight now, and the look he gave her after she closed the door and went to sit behind her desk was- well. Mr. Waugh had said, casually, that Mr. Coldwater had experience being treated, but it was clear his experience was much more extensive than Mr. Waugh's manner had implied.

“I might need to take a break in the middle,” Mr. Coldwater said, voice tight and controlled. “To check on Eliot.”

“Of course,” she said, easily, and Mr. Coldwater relaxed slightly at her words. “Now, it's clear you've been through introductory sessions like this before, so you know the general layout already. I'll share my qualifications, you can tell me what your goals are, and we can decide together if we're a good fit. I'm not the only magician with a psychiatric degree. If you and I don't suit, there are more options out there. You aren't stuck with me.” She kept talking for a while longer and watched as Mr. Coldwater slowly unwound – not entirely, but enough that she felt comfortable saying, “And what are your goals? Your friends told me a little about what happened recently, but it's _your_ priorities that matter in this room, Mr. Coldwater.”

“You can- you can call me Quentin,” he said, softly, staring down at his hands. He took in a deep breath, a man about to plunge into a freezing-cold lake. “Um. I tried to-” He broke off and laughed a little. “I've had a hard time, recently, caring about taking care of myself. I've been tired but I- until the last day, I haven't really been sleeping. I haven't been eating much. I-uh. I tried to-”

He cut himself off again and looked around the room, though she wasn't sure if he was actually taking in any of the details.

“I had an anxiety attack this morning,” he said, instead of continuing the ' _I tried to_ '. “When Eliot was out of the room for too long. That's why- that's why- so I think that's my goal. That I want to work on. I need to fix the part of my brain that- that- that thinks I'll never see him again – the real him – if he goes away for a while.” He shrugged, glanced at her, shrugged again.

“That sounds reasonable,” Roxann said. “He mentioned possession, I believe?”

“He had- there was- the Monster-” and the capital was there, in a way that it hadn't been when Mr. Waugh had told her the vague outlines of it. “-he was. He liked me, I guess, better than other humans but he didn't really- didn't really know how to express that in ways that weren't. Um. He killed. A lot of people.”

He sighed and looked away, but then started talking again, so Roxann settled down into her chair, and she listened.

 


End file.
